


Tabula Spike

by Lyzzybelle



Series: Stories I started to write (and might one day finish) [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate ending to S5 - Spike Saves Dawn!, Amnesiac!Spike, Dawn and Spike frienship, Dawn is SUPER protective!, Nursemaid Buffy, So is Spike!, Stubborn Giles, Why DO clothes disappear when a vampire wears them and looks in a mirror?, You NEED to motivate me to keep writing!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1412113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyzzybelle/pseuds/Lyzzybelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike saves Dawn at the end of S5 and loses his memory. How do the Scoobies react to a Spike who has no memory?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Had an idea for a fic where Buffy hires Graham to be Dawn's bodyguard. This is the prequel.

  **One**

Strong, pale fingers grasped the iron bars as he quickly scampered up the rickety framework of the tower. Below, in scattered groupings of two or three, little skirmishes were fought. He tuned out the chanting of the witches, the watcher's gasps of air as he fought three of the hellgod's minions and the sharp disbelief in the hellgod's voice as she cried out "Did anyone know the Slayer was a robot?"

Only two things were important to him right now, two heartbeats that easily drowned out the cacophony of the apocalypse; one heartbeat thrumming above and one heartbeat below him, racing a little faster than normal. 

"Steady, Slayer," he warned, muttering under his breath. "I'll take care of the 'Bit, you don't lose your focus now."

Whether she heard him or not was not important, the words prompted him to remain on task, to trust that Goldilocks would give the hellgod the beat-down she deserved  down on the ground while he climbed steadily upward, toward the fluttering pulse above.

Dawn's fear perfumed the air and his pace quickened.

"Easy now, 'Lil Bit. Almost there."

Above, someone familiar approached the girl and he didn't try to hold back his snarl when he recognized the doctor. Dawn's fear increased but she bravely tried to stifle her sobs.

His feet touched the unstable catwalk when he smelled blood but it was her cry of pain that brought the demon forth.

The fight was quick, the doctor dead but when he turned and saw the temporal rip in the crackling air just under Dawn's feet he knew he was too late.

"You have to…" the young girl stopped trying to pull in air as she chocked on her sobs,  "the blood…it opens the gate and the longer I bleed, the wider it will get."

Her eyes, wide and glittering with tears, pleaded with him to understand.

"It won't close unless I die."

"That's not happening, Bit."

Below, the tear widened and he heard Buffy scream her sister's name as she started to race up the stairs.

"But you have to…" she blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear her eyes while she made a futile attempt to tug her hands free from the bonds.

He walked toward her and, ever so gently, freed her wrists from the ropes.

"Now that's just crazy talk." Even before he finished, she was shaking her head.

"No, no…the prophecy said 'blood will open the gate until the blood stops'…it means I have to die." With one hand free, she took a step backward, and he wrapped his fingers around her wrist.

Startled, she looked at him.

"Blood…it always begins and ends with blood, don't it?"

"Dawn! Spike! Don't do anything Spike…" Buffy, still far below them, commanded.

His eyes were drawn to the rip as the air crackled and he saw the shadows of the hellish creatures that waited for the gap to widen enough to let them through. His thoughts, though, centered around the one word.

Blood.

Footsteps pounded upon the rickety stairwell and the iron frame groaned, the air crackled and the rip tore just a little more.

"Please…" Dawn whispered. Her hand tugged his downward and he felt the slickness of blood upon his fingers. "See….it won't stop until the blood stops."

Blood.

The demon sprung forward and he sunk to his knees while his tongue laved at her belly.

"Spike…what…?" and he sealed her wounds.

"The blood isn't running now…" he felt giddy until he saw the sadness in her eyes.

"Oh Spike," she touched a hand to his cheek, "if only it were that simple." To further strengthen her words, the gap widened and a great winged creature repeatedly began to break through the tear, it's shrill screech making Dawn turn her head.

"Spike, please, it is only going to get worse!" she pleaded, struggling against the remaining bond.

"Your blood." He said and she nodded.

"Yes. Now hurry."

"Don't touch her!" Buffy was only one floor below him and Spike wished he had enough time to get one last look. He slid his fingers down to Dawn's wrist, raised it to his lips and gave a soft kiss, the gesture reminiscent of his days as a Victorian gentleman.

"It will only sting for a moment, little one," he promised and bit as gently as he could. He pulled three mouthfuls and laved his tongue against the wound to seal it.

"Goodbye Dawn."

He kissed her cheek, ran off the edge of the platform and leapt as far as he could just as the dragon-like creature broke through the tear. His aim was true and, as he wrapped his arms around the neck of the beast, the electric current raced through his body while the chip in his head fired, its power exponentially magnified by the lightning.

He hoped that, when they looked back on this moment, they would say that, at last, he had done this one thing right.

 


	2. TWO

 

**Two**

 

Shadows flitted in and out of focus; words whispered softly; a feather-light touch skimmed across his brow…

" _Sweet Goddess, Buffy, did he just…?"_

" _I saw it too. Guys, help me…gently Xander!"_

Voices faded and suddenly, he felt hands upon his body and then he felt as light as air.

* * *

 

Pain, pain in his head, like someone hooked jumper cables directly into the grey matter. So much pain, he barely heard the agitated voices around him.

" _Giles…to do something! ...won't stop firing…"_

"… _sn't matter anyway…he is just a vam…"_

"… _swear to God, Xander, if you don't…"_

Pain surged through him once again and his back arched as he screamed. The light touch was back, gentle strokes on his wrist and a stirring of air near his ear.

He flailed with one arm, the motion sapping his remaining strength.

" _Don't leave me." he whispered brokenly. Please, don't go...he added silently._

" _I'm here…"_

Darkness wrapped around him. Pain faded.

* * *

 

Fire.

His throat burned with fire and the room filled with snarls and growls.

"… _the hell is this? Jesus Christ, Xander! I ask for some blood and you bring me back this crap!"_

" _Hey! You go out at three in the afternoon and this is what you get! Too early for the next shipment and all of the good stuff gone or at least that is what Bernie the Butcher told me…next shipment won't arrive for the next four hours."_

" _I am not going to give him this shit. Take it away."_

A new voice joined the others.

" _He needs blood, Buffy…don't you at least want to see if…"_

" _Dawnie, no. He saved your life and I am not going to feed him blood that I wouldn't even give to a…vampire. He deserves more respect than that."_

The fire burned and the voices faded. In the distance, the growls changed to screams as a current of agony surged in his head once more.

"… _what the hell are you doing?"_

" _Don't look at me like that. I am not going to let him starve."_

A mouthwatering aroma filled his nose and, instinctively, he reached toward the smell, brought it to his lips…and drank. He felt something flinch and he made a noise of distress and the sticky fluid dribbled from the corners of his mouth.

Firm pressure pushed the elixir back to his lips and a soft voice prompted him to drink.

 _"Dawnie...ss me that cloth." And then something wet, cool and just a little bit rough brushed against the corners of his mouth, his chin._ _"...take as much as you need Spike, I am not leaving."_

He wondered who Spike was.

* * *

 

It was a cycle.

Pain, currents firing through his brain.

The burn in his throat.

The soft voice.

The gentle hands and the sweet elixir that took the burn away before darkness claimed him again.

Too many iterations to count.

* * *

 

Sometimes there were more voices but the conversation was too confusing to follow.

" _I wish you had woken me up, Giles. I don't like giving him that shit from the butcher's."_

"… _you can't keep donating. You need to rest and replenish if you insist on giving him your blood…"_

" _I think mine helps him heal faster Giles. Remember, three days ago, we tried the freshest that Bernie had and I think the pain got worse. He needed more blood just a half hour later and …Giles, he was in agony. We have to do something about that chip."_

" _Buffy, I hardly think removing the chip is the most sensible course of action…"_

" _I just wish I knew how to get in touch with Riley."_

" _Did you hear what I said?"_

" _Yes, I heard you Giles. But that chip needs to come…shit! He's seizing again. See! When he takes from me, he seems to need less blood and he seems to be free from the pain for hours."_

Gentle fingers once again at his temple, the soothing voice in his ear, and sweet, sweet elixir at his lips. He sucked as gently as he could, he hated it when she flinched.

He tried so hard not to be greedy.

* * *

 

Pain.

The pain was back. An endless flash of lightning sparking behind his eyes. The pain was so bad, it obliberated the other sensations, especially the ones that soothed -the gentle brushes fingers, the soft voice in his ear.  But the agony was so great, he couldn't even mourn the loss.

Blackness.

* * *

 

The pain was back and it was searing. A sound escaped his lips, half moan half whimper and he tried to raise his hand up to rub his temple. Tried. But his hand wouldn't move, something holding it down. Panic spread through him, quick rapid images of rusted chains, relentless whiplashes and an insidious chuckle.

" _No. no. no."_ he continued to tug his hands up, tossing his head from side to side. Vaguely, he became aware of the voices.

"… _has to be some other way! Look at him…"_

" _Do you think I haven't racked my brains trying to come up with a better solution?"_

" _Oh you really don't want to know what I think right now."_

" _Dawn, please just calm…"_

" _Giles, he saved me. He sacrificed…"_

He stopped listening, the pain too great.

Instead he endured.

* * *

 

Gentle fingers stroked at his temple and he sighed at the sensation, let it take over to drown out the voices and dull the pain.

A voice in his ear spoke nonsense about spikes, chips, and god I am so sorry, but you need to hold still. Then firm pressure at his mouth, the sweet elixir and he barely heard her _"Now. Do it now, dammit and if you cause him even a fraction of pain that is more than necessary, I. Will. End. You."_

The pain exploded and a groan of pain escaped him but he continued to lap at the elixir. All that mattered was her touch. Her blood. And her voice telling him he was strong. He was brave.

He was a hero.

Darkness.

 


	3. Three

**Three**

The sound of a door opening woke him and, though the room was dim, the sliver of light that trickled into the room was a brief flash of brightness. A young girl tiptoed into the room and closed the door softly behind her. She stood still as if listening for footsteps out in the hall and, after a few moments, gave a sigh.

Lightly, she stepped across the room and tugged on a wooden chair that had been placed near the window. When the wooden leg of the chair scrapped against the wood on the floor, she cringed at the sound and paused for a moment before she continued to move it away from the wall.

Unfortunately, the back on the chair caught on the edge of the heavy window drapes and light flooded the room. Instinctively, he lifted a hand to cover his eyes and hissed at the sudden brightness. Startled, the girl spun around to face him, her long hair fanning out behind her when she twirled.

"Ohmigod… you're…ohmigod…" She stumbled toward him a few steps, her knees thumping upon the floor while her hands grasped at his forearm. "I can't believe it…ohmigod…I mean, we'd hoped, but Giles said…and now…you're…."

More words tumbled quickly from her mouth. A variety of expressions fleetingly crossed her face, one melting into the next and it was difficult to sort through them all. Just as quickly, her eyes filled with tears and her words mixed with soft, choked sobs.

He lifted his hands and placed his palm on the back of her head. No sooner had he touched her then she raised her head and turned her face into his palm.

"But, now you're back."

Like a puppy, she wriggled until she was half on and half off the bed and her arms were around his neck.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thankyouthankyou…" she repeated the words over and over while he felt the wetness of her tears against his neck. When she pulled away, her eyes were pink and puffy and he hated having to ask the question that was on the forefront of his mind.

"Who are you?"

When her eyes filled again, he wondered if there had been a kinder way to phrase the question.

The girl left and he felt like a blackguard for distressing her. A group of people clustered outside his door and he wondered if they knew just how loud their whispers were.

* * *

 

"… _amnesia, I suppose. Entirely normal, I should think. After all, it was a miracle that he didn't dust in the first place."_

" _Dust! Exactly…and without the chip, don't you think this is an option we should consider?"_

 _"What?"_ the shrill exclamation obviously belonged to the young girl who had just bounded from his room, hollering to all and sundry to "come quick dammit!" her voice lowered, her fury evident in the way she hiss her next words.

" _Xander, you had better not be implying that…"_

" _Oh c'mon Dawn, I am just saying what everyone has thought at least once over the past few days-"_

" _Not me! Not Buffy!" she replied sharply._

_"Now, Dawn, calm down. We are just saying that now that Spike doesn't have a..."_

As fascinating as the conversation outside his door was, he was unable keep his eyes open and within seconds, he fell fast asleep before he could wonder who the people outside the door were.

* * *

 

The next time he woke, it was with a sudden alertness that confused him. He knew he had been dreaming, but as his eyes fixated on the bedroom door he could not recall what the dream had been about but left him feeling both disturbed and …something else he could not name.

The knob on the door turned ever so slightly then stilled, as if the person on the other side of the door was hesitating. As silently as possible, he carefully moved the blankets aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed in an attempt to stand – a feat that drained energy from him faster than he thought possible. When the door swung open, he had managed to get as far as sitting on the edge of the bed with his bare feet on the floor while one hand gripped the bed post and the other clutched the sheet in an attempt to keep from falling over.

"So, you're awake."

He turned his head toward the figure and was appalled at the unmanly sound he made when the brightness behind her hurt his head. He lifted one of his hands to shield his eyes and tightened his grip on the bedpost, willing himself to remain upright. For some reason, he did not want to appear weak before this woman.

"So it would seem." He replied and she seemed started at the sound of his voice, a slight frown furrowing her brow. By the time his eyes adjusted to the light, she had closed the door behind her, one of her arms behind her back as if she had forgotten to release the doorknob.

As casually as was possible, he lowered his hand and placed his palm upon the bed, all too aware of her watchful gaze as her eyes tracked the movement.

"You should probably lie down," she bit her lip for a moment and then looked at his face, the furrow of her brow more pronounced when she continued, "you look as weak –"

" _You're weak…nothing more than a spineless sniveling excuse of a man. Why she picked you I will never know…"_ For a moment, the room and the woman disappeared and in front of him loomed a large man, arm raised with a whip in hand – just as quickly the image disappeared.

"I am not weak." He was surprised at the harsh tone of his voice, but the woman seemed unperturbed, just arched an eyebrow in challenge.

"Really?" She crossed her arms and leaned a hip against the wall. He clenched his jaw in response and gave a jerky nod.

"Well by all means," she continued, "don't let me stop you."

He stood swiftly but the motion seemed to cause the room to sway, still he was determined to not show any weakness ( _not weak. Not a coward. Whatever you dish out, I can take it and more)_. Stubbornly, he turned to look at the woman and smirked in triumph…until his legs began to tremble and the woman frowned in worry. Still, he refused to sit.

"Maybe this isn't a good idea…" she used her hip to push away from the wall and a protest formed on his lips even as he crumpled to the floor.

Mortified, he closed his eyes even as she easily hefted his weight and placed him carefully on the bed.

"Stubborn as a mule." Her words carried a hint of exasperation and something else that seemed part worry and part amusement, as if she knew him well, which was laughable since she was a stranger to him.

"Tell me," he began as he opened his eyes. The room seemed to swim in front of him as his vision tripled. With a groan, he closed his eyes and darkness seemed to weigh him down but he struggled to get his question out. "Who…are…you?"

He did not hear an answer.

* * *

The young girl was back, sneaking like a thief into his room. This time, she had a large white mug with a yellow straw poking out. Inside the mug there was something so delicious that it made his mouth water. Suddenly, his vision sharpened, each detail in the room stood out so clearly and he focused on the girl, who had her back turned as she carefully closed the door. Facinated, he started at the back of her head, able to clearly differentiate between the separate strands of her hair and thought he could even count the soft exhales of her breath. Somewhere, a soft rythym beat steadily.

When the girl turned, she caught sight of him and the soft steady rythym seemed to skip a few beats then increase slightly.

"Spike." she gave a breathless, uneasy chuckle and raised her free hand to her chest. "You startled me."

She stepped forward and gestured toward him with the mug, the motion stirring a current of air and bringing him another whiff of the heavenly aroma.

"I can see you are thirsty." she said dryly, amusement in her eyes as she stared at him.

Elsewhere in the house, he heard a door slam and a voice call out.

_"Dawn? Where did she go?"_

The girl rolled her eyes then looked at the door. The beat stuttered for a moment then increased once again. Nervously, the girl licked her lips.

"Honestly, it's like I am still twelve." she muttered as she moved toward him. Once again, he smelled the delicous scent and made sound that was part growl and part moan. The girl arched a brow, her expression identical to the woman he had seen earlier and he assummed they must be related. As she neared, her arm extended toward him his eyes moved from the mug in her hand to her wrist, to the delicate bones and skin so pale that the bluish tint her veins stood out.

She froze in place, like a woodland creature that sensed a dangerous predator nearby and that once steady beat was now a rapid tattoo.

The hand trembled and the mug toppled from her hand and broke upon the hardwood of the floor, a red stain splattered around her.

" _What was that? Where is Dawn-Dawnie!"_

Suddenly a new smell was added to delicous aroma and the combination intoxicating. The skin on his face seemed to tighten and the girl began to take great, heaving breaths.

"S-S-Sp-" she tried and held a trembling hand in front of her. There was a rapid thumping, the sound of feet clammering on the stairs and the girl looked fearfully at the door. "You-You have to calm d-d-down."

The new scent became so pronouced that it perfumed the air. When the door flew open and two strange men stood in the doorway, he recognized the scent.

Fear. The smell surrounded him and for a moment it felt as if two parts of him battled for control. One of the men raised a stout, pointed wooden object and the girl cried in alarm.

"No! No- don't." She stumpled in an attempt to stand before the bed and one of the men raised a crossbow and with a snarl of rage, he vaulted from the bed, wrapped one hand around the girl's wrist and pulled her behind him.

"Stay behind me." he ordered, his words garbled as he flexed his hands in readiness.

Then a bolt flew toward him, aimed straight at his heart.

 

 


	4. FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to the lovely Laurence Quill and BUNNY on Elysian Fields…who has made certain that this little fic is NOT forgotten by me. I hope it was worth the wait.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who took time to review, encourage and favorite/alert!

Fury blazed through him, the slim bolt of wood that he caught in his hand forgotten as splintered fragments littered the floor. Fear surrounded him in a haze so thick, so palpable, he could almost touch it, almost taste it.

The walls around him echoed with angry voices shouting over one another, a confusing mix of "get away from her", "...bloodsucking leech..." and "stop it stop it. He didn't mean it, don'thurthimplease."

His eyes locked on the man at the door with the crossbow, watched the slight tremor in the man's hand as he slotted another bolt and took aim. Behind him, the young girl tried to push him out of the way, voice choked with desperation and tears but it was all for naught. His chest expanded, his arms bowed out slightly from his body as he tried to make himself as big a target as possible while her words turned into a steady repetition of one word screamed out like a prayer filled with terror and hope.

"…no, don't! Buf-fy!. BUF-fy! BUF- FY !"

Two more bodies joined the men in the doorway, two female voices added to the mix. The dark haired man with crossbow relaxed his stance a moment as turned toward one woman with short red hair, his voice harsh and cold.

"..out of control. I mean just look at him… Don't know what she was thinking…"

"No…Willow…no," The girl behind him directed her words to the red-haired woman as well, her plea edged with panic that had him curling his fingers like they were claws. "He's wrong. It's my fault…please…tell them to stop. He is just trying to-"

The other man, older than the others, raised a hand, his words measured and clipped like a man used to being in control. "…as it may, I am not sure now is the time to…"

Their attention pulled away from him and he relaxed slightly, his fingers loosened around the young girl's wrist and in the blink of an eye she pulled free, scooted around him and sprinted toward the men, toward the …

… _danger. She's in danger. Made a promise I did…_

…men.

The man with the crossbow lowered his arm slightly as he spoke and it drifted to the left until the weapon was unknowingly aimed toward the girl. Once again, his vision sharpened and he zeroed in on the man's agitated movements, on the index finger absently tightening and loosening on the trigger as he gestured wildly while speaking to the women.

Faster than he thought possible, he launched himself into the air as the bolt sprung free.

The last noise he heard was a primal roar that echoed within the room, then silence.

Like statues, each person froze, eyes wide while no one hardly dared to breathe, but he didn't look their way. His back to the crowd at the door, he stood facing the girl, who stared back with startled blue eyes while he quickly examined her form to assure himself she had not been injured. Her arm twitched. His eyes tracked its jerky movement while she raised her arm and extended her index finger out slightly until it touched the square-shaped head of the bolt he'd caught in his hand, just a scant inch from her forehead.

Gently, she rubbed the tip of her finger over the deadly, steel tip and it was if a spell had been broken. Once again, as they had with the previous bolt, his fingers tightened around the bolt until it splinted into fragments, a growl rumbling at the back of his throat as remembered the careless actions of the younger man.

Then the girl started to shake, trembled from head to toe and she launched herself into his body, arms wrapped around his waist while she jabbered out a stream of words.

"yousavedme. Again. Ohmygodyou…you…savedme."

Before he could speak, a door downstairs slammed.

"I'm back."

Though it was not raised in a yell, he could hear the woman's voice as clearly as if she were in the room.

"Uh—up h-h-here." The soft hesitant voice belonged to one of the women nearby and he flicked his eyes amongst the group to search out its owner. All he saw, though, was a flash of wheat colored hair and then the red headed woman shifted, her stance protective.

He looked at the red head and a flash of understanding passed between them and he almost smiled in approval.

The sound of feet running lightly up the stairs and then the voice again.

"What's going –why is…"

Uneasily, the group at the door shifted and then _she_ stepped into the room. Slowly, she looked at him then at the girl ( _yousavedme. You. Saved. Me)_ and then her eyes slowly inspected the room – the broken cup upon the floor surrounded by a thick, red stain; the ashen-faced dark-haired man staring at the young girl with horror on his face, the crossbow forgotten at his feet; the trembling girl wrapped around him like a…like a…(a quick picture of something, the name of which name escaped him for the moment).

"Xander, Giles…out." Her voice was quiet but carried such authority that the men left with nary a word, the younger man tripped in his haste to clear the room and the older paused to look at the woman. Something unspoken passed between them, the older man frowned with disappointment and the woman's eyes narrowed in response.

The man left and they were alone, the young girl's arms tight around his torso while the woman watched him warily from the door, fingers of her right hand twitching as if they strained to reach for some unseen object.

The door closed and the tension seemed to drain from the young girl's body, but she still held tightly around his middle. The woman, though, continued in her steady regard. From out of the room, he could hear the shuffling of feet dragging on stairs, words speaking in hushed whispers and did not relax until his…his...his… _instincts?_ (was that the right word? It seemed apt, but something told him that it really wasn't) told him the danger was past.

Like she had been waiting for some kind of signal, the woman moved toward him, her steps slow and precise like _he_ was the threat and not the men outside. Slowly, she reached out her arm and took the young girl's hand, her eyes examined the girl carefully as if checking for injuries. The girl's hold around him loosened and she stepped back slightly, cheeks wet with salty tears and eyes filled with such misery it made his heart ache.

"It's my fault. I thought he would be…" she gestured helplessly toward the shattered cup on the floor with a trembling finger "…and he smelled the…you know…and I know you said to give him time but I just wanted to…but then I…" she gestured toward the cup again "and…the smell, it must have…and then Giles and Xander came in and …they thought he was gonna…but he wasn't Buffy" she started to shake her head vehemently, the long strands of her hair moving with the motion "and I tried to tell them, but you know Xander, he thought I was gonna get hurt."

"I know, Dawn" she agreed quietly as the girl continued to talk, stumbling over words and half sentences but the older woman seemed to have no difficulty following along. When the girl paused for air, the woman smoothly maneuvered them until the girl was at the door.

"Dawn, let me talk to Spike for a few minutes, okay? Tell the others...I'll be right down."

"You won't..." she gave a half-hearted thrust of her wrist "...will you?"

"It will be okay."

With a last glance toward him, the girl nodded and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much MUCH shorter than my usual chapters, but a much faster update as a trade off...what did you think?


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DEDICATION: TO Bunny! Happy Graduation
> 
> And huge thanks to LaurenceQuill, who asked for more and waited *evah* so patiently
> 
> And for those that asked…this one is a little longer!

 

**Five **

"Buffy."

She said the word and paused as if she expected the word to cause a reaction. Obviously, some type of reply was expected but he was at a loss, for the life of him he couldn't figure out what to do.

Silently, he mouthed the word, remembered how the young girl had shouted the same word as if were the solution to all that was wrong with the world.

"Oh!" The woman straightened her posture as if something just occurred to her and pointed her thumb toward her chest. "It's my name. I'm Buffy."

Then she thrust her arm toward him, palm facing to the side and waited.

The meaning of the gesture danced at the edges of his memory and he was _certain_ something was expected of him. Slowly, he extended his hand until his palm touched hers and when he did, she gave a slight jerk of her hand upward. In one fluid motion, he stepped forward, lifting and twisting her hand until the back touched his lips.

It seemed right and strange at the same time. The action seemed appropriate and he felt a small ripple of pleasure until she stiffened with a slight gasp of surprise.

Not appropriate after all, it would seem.

His clasp on her fingers loosened and he straightened, back rigid. He meant to avoid her eyes, but she titled her head to the side and he was drawn to the movement. With a flash of small, even teeth, she bit on her bottom lip, then tightened her grasp before he could drop her hand.

"Sorry…I just wasn't expecting…we don't normally…" she jerked his hand upward and downward a few times. "Ummm…this is a handshake. It's a typical greeting here in the good ole' US of A. The kissing of the hand thing? It's considered old fashioned and…" she paused for a moment while he stood stiffly, jaw clenched and trying very hard to contain the wave of mortification he felt.

"It's okay, though. You know what? My bad. My total bad. Let me start over."

Abruptly, she turned his palm downward and raised the back of his hand to her lips. The press of her lips was gentle and lasted for the space of three beats of that strange pulsing rhythm that seemed to accompany her. When she raised her head, a pink flush appeared on her cheeks, the heat a compliment to the sparkling green of her eyes.

"Buffy." He said her name aloud slowly and she nodded. "It's a pleasure to…" he (tried to think of the correct wording- why was this so difficult?) hesitated then continued "…make your acquaintance. My name is…"

And he drew another blank.

"My name is…" he closed his eyes, tried to _think_ , but the harder he tried, the more frustrated he became.

"I don't know my name."

At his confession, he carefully searched her face, but Buffy gave no indication of shock or surprise and he realized that she already knew. Rapidly, he sorted through the collection of memories that he _did_ possess – a jumbled mess of unusual smells, snippets of senseless conversations and the pitifully inadequate assortment of unfamiliar faces and-he couldn't sort the real memories from ones that might have been dreams.

 _They_ knew.

The urge hide overcame him and he hated feeling so vulnerable…so exposed.

Her face softened and she stepped forward, neatly lifting his arm until it wrapped around her shoulder. He wanted to protest, make some attempt to let her know that he wasn't ( _weak_ ) some swooning maiden but even as the words formed on his lips, a sense of déjà vu overcame him.

" _Go ahead, don't let me stop you."_

(He could picture it; her arms crossed, leaning against the wall, one eyebrow cocked in a challenge and him…falling gracelessly to the floor.

Did that happen? Or did he dream it?)

The confusing muddle of thoughts drifted away when she turned her head and he inhaled her scent. As she firmly nudged him in the direction of the bed, one arm around his waist, he thought that, maybe, being weak wasn't so bad after all.

She settled him back onto the bed, smoothing out the edges of the sheets (which smelled like cut grass, like they had dried outdoors) then covering him first with a light blanket followed by another heavier blanket ( _no…not a blanket…not quite_ …).

Before she could turn away, his hand reached out and grasped her wrist with a slight tug.

"Please…" he began, aware how desperate ( _pathetic…you're pathetic_ a voice whispered in his ear) he sounded. He took a breath, tasting the air on his tongue (cut grass, images of old books, lemons and an assortment of the things he couldn't identify – just random images of cut wood and long, heavy bars of metal, too big for one man to carry) and tried to sound polite. "Can you tell me what happened to me?"

"You…were…hurt." She said the words slowly, as if testing them out and this time _he_ raised an eyebrow at her.

"Thank you so much," He said drily, raising his palms upward and gesturing toward himself. "I gathered as much, Pet -" she looked so startled at the endearment, he inwardly cursed himself for behaving so forward. "Buffy." He added hastily.

"You fell." She said abruptly.

"I fell?" he frowned, imagining some embarrassing moment, like tripping over a rug and hitting his head. She nodded.

"Dawn…my sister, was in danger. Someone wanted to sacri- uh, h-hurt her," a low growl sounded and he blinked when he realized that it came from _him_ "a-and you stopped him. You saved her but before I – you fell off the tower."

"I saved her?"

"You. You saved her."

"How long was I –" once again he lifted his palms and gestured around him.

"Nine days."

* * *

 _You fell off a tower_ she had explained.

As soon as he was alone, he tentatively brought his fingers up to his hairline, fingers probing gently for a cut or a scrape. There was nothing. Folding back the blankets, he sat up, paying careful attention to each movement he made. He shrugged off the soft fabric of the long sleeved top and gave both arms and torso a thorough inspection then did the same with his legs.

Nothing. No cuts, scrapes, indications of broken bones or pain that he thought would accompany such an event. Towers usually indicated a higher elevation than that of a house or even building. Surely nine days wasn't near long enough for one to recover with nary a mark?

Perhaps that strange weakness (he cringed at the thought) was due to the fall? Still, he should at least have broken _something_?

With a sigh, he settled back into the bed, not bothering to put on the night clothing he had removed. Within moments, he was asleep.

* * *

"… _that's a good idea, Buffy?"_

" _Just for now, Dawnie. Please?"_

" _He would never hurt me, Buffy, you know that."_

His eyes opened as he looked around the room. The voices were so clear, it was if they were in the room but he was alone. Throwing back the covers, he stood and walked to the window to move aside the heavy drapes. A strange carriage (carriage couldn't be correct, there were no horses) was on the road and he recognized the red-haired woman from before standing next to another flaxen-haired woman.

" _Not on purpose, Dawnie."_ He frowned when he heard the doubt that colored Buffy's words. Who were they talking about?

" _Then why do I need to leave? It's my house too, you know."_

" _I know. And it won't be for long, I promise. It's just until I figure something out."_

" _I still don't know why…"_

" _He doesn't know who …what he is Dawnie. If he went all…grr!…argh!...you could get hurt."_

" _I already told you…he wasn't going to do anything. I mean…at first I thought that maybe he was going to…but then Xander and Giles burst into the room and they were all "get away from her you bloodsucker"! But then, he was protecting me…from them!"_

" _Dawnie…Stop. I believe you. I do…I just…" her voice thickened "It's too soon. Okay? I mean just a few days ago you were about to become a virgin sacrifice and I almost lost you. Please…just…I just need to know that you are safe."_

" _I. Am. Safe."_

There was silence for so long, he wondered if the two sisters were still there, then he heard a deep, tired sigh. He stepped away from the window and walked toward the door to his room, then paused when he realized Buffy and Dawn were in the hall outside his room.

" _What if it happens again?" Buffy spoke the words quietly._

" _It won't. I know it won't."_

" _Will you stop and just listen to me? I don't mean Spike. I meant…them. What if they think that he was about to attack you and he gets dusted?"_

_A sharp inhale and a low whisper._

" _You think Xander and Giles…?"_

" _It's just too soon Dawn. We are all a little…overprotective…of you right now, okay? I just think that if the others think that you are safe, they will all be a little less jumpy and I can figure out a way to help him."_

" _Okay. I'll go. But just so you know - it is NOT because I think he will hurt me; if my moving in with Will and Tara keeps Spike safe, I will do it."_

They…the people from before…they were afraid _he_ was going to hurt Dawn?

Whoever he had been ( _what_ _ever he had been_ his mind supplied helpfully) it was clear that though these people knew him, they did not trust him.

What kind of person had he been?

Stunned, he picked the pair of sleeping pants he had tossed onto the floor before. From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of dark blue fabric and turned his head just as he realized all he had glimpsed was the same pants he held in hand reflected in the mirror.

Before he could relax, he realized with great shock, that though he could clearly see the dark blue fabric in the mirror, the bed behind him, the walls and even part of the drapes that covered the window, one thing was missing.

Him.

He could not see his reflection.

His shriek of alarm was more girlish than manly, but that was the least of his worries as the two sisters burst in his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Some chapters flow so easily, and some take a little work. This one took work!
> 
> So, this is a pivotal chapter. I knew from the beginning, that for Buffy, it would come to two choices. Spike does not know he is a vampire, so either she leaves with him or everyone else leaves the house and she stays with spike. Though she honestly believes Spike would not willingly hurt Dawn, she refuses to put her sister in danger. She is also realistic and knows that she might have to dust Spike, but until he gives her a reason to believe he is a danger to others, she won't do it.
> 
> Also, surprisingly, I am NOT a doctor and I do NOT play one on TV nor have I ever anyone who has experienced amnesia; if I am (way, way, WAY) off base, my sincere apologies and eternal gratitude for your patience!


End file.
